Fanfic: Lazarus Heart, Tigerland Fic, BozzCoda, R
by justjanedoe
Summary: Summary: Set on leaving camp, Bozz hates that he's found more than  one reason to stick around.


Title: Lazarus Heart

Fandom: Tigerland

Rating: R

Pairings: Bozz/Coda

Spoilers: Probably won't make much sense if you haven't seen the  
film.

Summary: Set on leaving camp, Bozz hates that he's found more than  
one reason to stick around.

Disclaimer: Ross Klavan and Michael McGruther own these characters. I  
just like playing with them.

Author's Notes: I started this fic for Devin eons ago - and thanks  
to him, I found the inspiration to finish it.

...Though the sword was his protection  
The wound itself would give him power  
The power to remake himself  
At the time of his darkest hour  
She said the wound would give him courage and pain  
The kind of pain that you can't hide  
From the wound a lovely flower grew  
From somewhere deep inside...

Lazarus Heart - Sting

There was just enough moonlight for Bozz to look at his watch and  
know what time it was. And it wasn't quite time yet. He could hear  
Paxton sobbing a few feet away from him and fought the strong urge to  
go to him. He knew he could offer comfort to his friend, but that  
would mean he'd have to stay longer than he wanted.

Glancing over to the next cot, he could make out Johnson. It didn't  
matter to Bozz that Johnson might know what things were between  
Paxton and himself. In fact, he was sure it wasn't a secret. And it  
didn't seem to matter. But going to Paxton – giving the boy what he  
needed, well, that would just make it close to impossible for Bozz to  
leave. And leaving was what Bozz intended to do.

Another wracking sob and Bozz was sitting up. A hand held his  
shoulder and he jumped. Cota. A finger pressed to his lips begged  
Bozz's silence. Cota stepped back into the shadows, and Bozz was  
quiet as he stood and followed him.

Once outside, they moved into the trees. Cota's chest was bare and  
Bozz licked his lips, something he did when there was nothing to say,  
and stood there patiently gazing at the man. Cota smiled. Or gave  
Bozz something that resembled a smile. Cota moved closer and Bozz  
stepped backward, feeling the press of a tree trunk against his back.

Curious hands moved cautiously out to touch the smooth skin of Cota's  
shoulders and arms. Soft. Like Paxton. Thoughts of the wounded man  
swirled behind Bozz's eyes and he closed them, working to either  
force the thoughts out or bring them closer. Either way, Paxton was  
embedded in his memory. Cota, too, was imbedded in Bozz's head.

If Bozz were the kind of soldier that was expected of him. If he  
accepted that he could be that kind of person, Cota would represent  
everything about that soldier. And Bozz had spent a lot of time  
contemplating Cota. How had this confident, capable Sergeant  
maintained his compassion in this forsaken place? Compassion that  
Bozz could not only see, but feel. And right now, he needed it, even  
if it were just for a few moments.

Here, in this place - moments were all he would ever have of anything  
good or soft or on Cota's forearm, Bozz pulled him one  
step closer, gasping as their hips brushed together. Cota, unable to  
stop himself, brought his mouth down to cover Bozz's.

Hunger. That's what Cota tasted like to Bozz. Giving in to it, Bozz  
let himself be devoured by the Sergeant. For once he didn't feel like  
he was taking advantage of someone else. Because that's what it felt  
like for Bozz. That yes, he gave Miter a way home, but what he took  
from him made it seem like a condition. The same as with Paxton,  
though Jim was great at trying to prove Bozz wrong – that things were  
mutual between them. Yet, it still felt like stealing to Bozz. Taking  
something from someone who felt too vulnerable to refuse. And even if  
that wasn't the truth, it was what Bozz believed. But that was Miter.  
And Paxton. This was Cota.

Shuddering under Cota's touch, Bozz took what was offered to him –  
something no one had ever given him. Freedom. From responsibility. He  
could have this with Cota and it was almost too much for Bozz. When  
those strong hands pulled at his shirt, Bozz raised his arms –  
surrendering to whatever Cota may ask of him. Warm heat closing over  
his nipple made him cry out. Cota's low chuckle silenced him for a  
moment as his pants were undone and pulled down over his lean hips.  
Trying not to make another sound as Cota falls to his knees before  
him.

Never before has anyone just… wanted him. This was so good. Eyes  
squeezed shut, hips thrusting ever so gently into Cota's willing  
mouth, Bozz is biting his lips. Salty sweat trickles down his cheeks,  
travelling down and onto his chest. And he can't forget the tears,  
also salty and a little sweet as he tastest them on his own lips.

Cota's hand is back on his chest, tweaking him - tuning him to a  
fine, deep and resonant hum. His whole body aches for more. For  
release. Gently, he pushes Cota's face away, looking down at him,  
surprised by the hurt expression. Eyes, stormy with need, peer up at  
Bozz questioningly.

Sinking to his knees, Bozz covers Cota's mouth with his own once  
more. This should be answer enough, he thinks, for he cannot wait  
this one moment longer. His whole body begs participation. Leaning  
heavily into Cota's chest, he tips them backward onto the marshy  
ground. Reaching down and undoing Cota's pants, he takes the hard  
cock into his hand and pumps him steadily, eyes never leaving Cota's  
gaze. Slowly, Bozz crawls up the Sergeant and aligns their hips,  
rolling against him, acquainting their bodies.

"Better", is all Bozz can manage before taking that mouth again,  
continuing to push solidly against Cota, taking comfort in the heavy  
body beneath his own.

He senses his own fragility, knowing that he, like everyone else  
inside this camp, can be shattered. Thinks of Paxton, broken already,  
the thought making him shiver. In another instant, he acknowledges  
that he - Bozz - can also be snuffed out.

Thrusting harder against Cota, swallowing all of his cries, he rages  
against that sweet death, and goes in search of a finer one. Maybe  
he'll never feel it again, Bozz thinks, taking them both in his hand,  
pumping even as he thrusts. Maybe after all this is over, he'll never  
see Cota again, either. But who has time for maybes, Bozz thinks -  
pushing the thoughts away, coming hard - spilling himself over Cota,  
who also finishes with a mildly suppressed groan.

Later, as he moves through the dense terrain, heading back to  
camp `just in time', all those maybes come crashing down over Bozz.  
And he smiles, rebelling against them, the memory of Cota sweet and  
fresh in his mind.


End file.
